


healing process

by Kulkuri



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, Derek Hale is Good With Kids, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Nogitsune, Pre-Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Touch-Starved Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 06:13:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15136871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kulkuri/pseuds/Kulkuri
Summary: It was sort of … Surprising, in the most oddest, most refreshing ways, to find out that all the kids of Beacon Hills seemed to know Derek.AndloveDerek.Stiles just can’t wrap his head around it, until he does.





	healing process

The first time it happened so that Stiles could see, was some six months after Allison’s death. Of Erica’s and Boyd’s passing. Everyone had been subdued and quiet, drawn into themselves as the grief clawed through their system, withering and breaking things irrevocably. Each day Stiles got off his bed though, his friends and family too, they got just a step closer to healing those trampled parts that seem to ache and saturate the air around them with defeated grief.

So when Stiles was taking an unexpected trip to the local grocery store, he hadn’t expected to bump into Derek. Well, no, he did, in a sixth sense sort of way. Stiles seemed to be alarmingly aware of his surroundings at all times these days, and as used to he is to werewolves stalking him, he knows when one is nearby now.

Though technically, Derek wasn’t exactly following him. In fact, the ex-alpha seemed to be completely in his own world, doing things that Stiles hadn’t even considered Derek ever doing. Like filling his gas tank or doing grocery shopping.

He winces a little, ashamed. He’d just never considered Derek sleeping or eating, or _hurting_.  He doesn't think any of them has.

Stiles pauses, his hand poised to reach for the big marshmallows on the higher shelf, watching as Derek walks slowly past him on the other end of the candy shelf, scowling, listening to a small boy explaining what seems to be… A Lightning McQueen toy. Stiles cringes, ready to step in to intervene the spectacle that is bound to end in tears, when Derek nods his head, and asks something in return, far too quietly for Stiles to hear. The boy grins widely, and says, “Exactly! Mister Derek, that’s what I told mom but she said nooo - ”

Huh.

The two continue walking, and now that Stiles looks harder, he can see that Derek is actually not doing his Scowl of Doom, but rather just focusing on the little boy’s words so intently that his brows furrow. The werewolf looks actually pretty patient and content listening to the kid ramble.

They disappear behind the tall stack of rice puddings, and when Stiles hastily throws two bags of marshmallows into his bag and rushes to the end of the isle, Derek is long gone, as is the boy.

Stiles returns home, puzzled at the mystery that is Derek Hale, but really… Pleased. That the dude is actually doing stuff that isn’t physically painful or in any way harmful, really.

Good for Derek.

 

–

 

The second time it happens, Stiles is sitting with Scott at the nearest cafe to their school. Scott has gotten a little more color to his cheeks, more life in those eyes than Stiles has seen in a while. He revels in it, glad that his friend is getting better.

They’re both complaining about Harris, happy with some resemblance of their old lives, when the bell dingles for a customer. Scott jerks a little in his seat, so Stiles turns around to see who arrived, and sees Derek lining up for a coffee. The werewolf nods at them, and Stiles lifts his hand in a greeting, offering the dude a small smile. When he turns around, he sees Scott looking at him like he’s just seen a ghost.

“What?” he asks, confused.

Scott shrugs, looking wary. “Didn’t know you and Derek were buddies.”

Stiles scoffs. “Dude, we’ve bled together, fought together and mourned together. We’re pretty much more than buddies. In fact, we’d be  _pack_ , if you’d just get over your high horse and stopped accusing Derek of whatever you’re still blaming him for, apologized, back and forth, and took him as your beta.”

Scott looks a little hurt, and shakes his head. “It’s not that simple.”

“Actually,” Stiles says, “It is. Derek isn’t the villain, never has been. He got the  _potential_ to be, but hey, turns out he’s got a soft heart for losers like us, so we got the better deal.”

He sighs at his friend’s expression. “Life has fucked us over pretty hard. But look at it this way; if life has fucked  _us_ over, what has it done to Derek?”

Gnawing at his lip, Scott ponders this for a moment. Stiles doesn’t give him much time to mull it over though, before he continues. “It has pretty much ruined him. Or his life, or whatever. He’s got nobody. People get killed and die left and right that defend him, that love him, and he’s just toughened up his exterior because he doesn’t want to get more hurt than he already is. And I totally get that. But we owe him pretty much our lives, dude. So don’t you think extending an olive branch and giving him an invitation to the pack would be the best course of action?”

“But what if he says no?”

Stiles shrugs. “That’s his right. The point is, it would probably make him feel better to know he’s appreciated enough to be extended that invite, even if he doesn’t take it. ‘Cause that’s what friends do.”

His friend deflates. Stiles would fist pump in victory if he wasn’t afraid it would be counter-effective. He turns a little to see if Derek had heard their conversation, but the dude is entirely focused on a little baby giggling at him. The mother doesn’t seem to notice. Derek makes a face and the baby gurgles a new laugh. There’s a soft uptick of the werewolf’s mouth that make Stiles’ heart do a weird flip. He frowns, looking down, rubbing at his chest in confusion.

When Scott kicks him, raising an eyebrow in question, Stiles scratches his head in puzzlement. When he turns again to see if his heart would do the same thing again, Derek is long gone.

That’s fine. They’ve got time.

 

—

 

 

Third time it happens, Stiles is with his father. When he used to be a kid, he’d sometimes get to ride the cruiser with his dad in his patrols. It happened mostly at night, and he’d sleep through almost the whole shift, apart from the very first few hours of excitement. After the Nogitsune had wrecked over, Stiles had had a hard time sleeping without someone nearby. That’s why he’d attach himself to his father’s side, and his super awesome dad would take things in stride, excusing Stiles’ presence with  _'for old times sake’_  and  _'to ensure his kid isn’t up to anything illegal’._

“Hey,” his father says, “Isn’t that Derek?”

Stiles looks up from his phone and directs his gaze to where his father is pointing. He squints, and sure enough, it is Derek. The werewolf is sitting in the middle of a playground, it being twelve in the afternoon with a high sun and all, at least ten kids staring at the man intently, all circled around him.

“He isn’t doing some sacrificing ritual, is he?” John asks, his brows pinched. Stiles knows his dad actually likes Derek these days. Clearly not wanting to arrest the man. “Or he hasn’t kidnapped those kids, right?”

“What -  _Dad_ , of course not. Derek wouldn’t kidnap some snotty brats that can’t keep a peace and quiet for more than five minutes,’’ Stiles says, exasperated.

’'He seems to put up with the rest of you snotty teenagers pretty well though,” his father muses, and Stiles squawks in outrage.

“I’ll go see what he’s up to,” John says, and parks the cruiser, getting out of it before Stiles can stop him. He sighs, rubbing his hand down his face and follows his dad begrudgingly.

“Mr. Hale,” his father greets the werewolf when he gets close enough, and Derek, who Stiles is sure heard the conversation seconds before, nods.

“Sheriff.”

“Oh my God! Are you the actual sheriff?” One of the kids squeals. John nods, offering a reassuring smile.

“Indeed I am. Sheriff Stilinski, at your service.”

“An actual police officer,” someone says in admiring tone, and Stiles snorts.

“I was patrolling the area when I saw all of you sitting here. I came to see if none of you were up to something.”

Stiles sees Derek stiffening, a fleeting flash of hurt showing on his face before he can stop it. Stiles winces, and lifts his hands up placatingly, “I know at least you, Jeremy,” he points to the kid living two houses from him, “Are always up to some mischief. What have you roped our poor Derek into this time?”

Jeremy grins, unrepentant. “Mister Derek is super funny! He always tells us stories when we are sad, and Laquisha was feeling sad because her mommy is mean to her, so Mister  Derek stopped by the playground 'cuz I yelled him to when I saw him walking by and - ”

One of the other kids pipes up, “And then Laquisha stopped crying 'cause Mister D always gives best hugs and plays with us when nobody else does and - ”

And then another “And Mister Derek doesn’t say we can’t cry, he just hugs it better and he’s so good at hide and seek, he always finds us! Even when I once got lost when we played, he still found me and I was so happy 'cuz he carried me on his shoulders - ”

And another kids, “One time Mister D saved me from a tree 'cuz I got stuck - ”

“And Mister Derek always does the judgey face - ”

“And - ”

“And - ”

Derek looks away, the tips of his ears red with what Stiles thinks is embarrassment. All the children look absolutely enamored with the werewolf, two of them climbing his back, with the, what Stiles assumes is the youngest kid, nestled against his chest in his lap. John’s brows have risen really high up the more the kids try to enthuse their narratives of what Derek has done for them, and all of their babbling fill the playground. It’s… Adorable, Stiles thinks, how these kids worship Derek as their cool big brother figure.

It fills his heart with something warm and affectionate.

''Alright,“ John says, and he can’t help the smile that’s stretching his lips. ’'So all of you are saying that Mister Derek here is to keeping all of you little monkeys in order, with absolutely no pay, and no rewards?”

The kids gasp in outrage. “We give him hugs! And lotsa flowers, look sheriff!” The girl, Laquisha, gestures towards the punched up flora and grass on his shirt.

“Mister Derek makes us laugh and Mister Derek becomes happy when we hug him, so we hug him lots and lots.”

To a stranger, someone unaware of Derek’s werewolf status and his need for contact and tactile affection, this would sound alarming. Instead, both John and Stiles freeze, their gazes locking in on Derek’s hunched form, the werewolf unable to look at them at all.

Stiles practically feels his heart shatter in his chest. His father, he knows, probably isn’t faring any better. How on earth have they failed so much when it comes to Derek? How have they let this vulnerable, guarded creature slip away from their radars enough to not notice how touch-starved he had become? Stiles realizes that, since going from a big family to just Derek, he must have had experience with children before. And since children don’t judge, don’t skirt around his scowl, but look underneath and find the softness in others, Derek’s surrender to them must’ve been easy, and mostly unavoidable.

How Derek ended here, ended up making friends with all the neighborhood kids, Stiles might never know. But he vows to change at least one thing. And that thing is to become someone to Derek he can come to. Someone the broken wolf can trust.

“I see,” John says eventually, startling Stiles out of his stupor. “I guess that makes it my civic duty to offer a hug as well?”

The kids cheer, and Derek looks up with wide eyes. Stiles too, looks at his father, and sees there resigned affection. Stiles pipes up, “And as Derek’s friend, I want to join in too. How about we make a hug pile for everyone?”

This gets even more loud of a cheer, and John offers his hand to Derek to help him up. The wolf takes it warily, confusion written all over. The dude probably though John would arrest him for God knows what.

The kids immediately smush themselves against Derek, flattening their tiny wriggling bodies against the wolf. John grins, and asks, “Is it alright, son?”

Derek hesitates briefly, but nods, and is engulfed into a proper tight Stilinski hug. Stiles hurriedly asks, “Am I okay too?” and Derek has barely time to nod before Stiles crushes himself against the pile of bodies.

Before Stiles leaves with his father some ten minutes later, he grins at Derek, somewhat more lighter now, with a purpose to fulfill. Helping others after having his hand hold so much destruction, feels more amazing than he would’ve thought. He’s almost giddy, high with the thought that maybe his presence could be of help to someone. His body to be wielded as a protecting shield, rather than a weapon.

“Hey,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know much about this pack sthick, and I know there’s a bunch of stuff between you and Scotty, but just. I wanted to tell you that my door is always open, or my window, whatever. And if nothing else, I’m always up for some mindless company. Reading, movies, you pick. You don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to. I just like company that I can talk to, even if they don’t respond. Helps me sleep too.”

Derek gulps visibly, clearly uncomfortable. But Stiles isn’t fazed. “And I’m always up for some hugs, if that’s something you’d like. No strings attached hugs. Whenever, wherever, with your consent.”

The wolf nods, with a quiet, “Yeah, okay.”

“Cool,” Stiles says , beaming. Derek might not ever take him up on the offer, he’s aware of that. But just offering it might be enough. At least the way Derek’s shoulders loosened up some, his posture relaxing. John calls out for Stiles, and he smiles one more time.

“You know where I live. Anywhere, anytime, dude. You take care of yourself, alright?”

He turns around with a parting wave, catching Derek’s muttered response, “Don’t call me dude.” and he laughs, joining his father in his cruiser.

Yeah. A lot of shitty things have gone down in the recent past, but Stiles has the ability to make things better. He just has to start using his hands again. He’s in charge, he’s in power, and he’s offering consent, and won’t ever take it from someone.

Things are going to be fine.

 

 


End file.
